


The Secret of Mind and Memory

by capitainpistol



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitainpistol/pseuds/capitainpistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Thor wake up to an empty Asgard and zero memory of their pasts or each other. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret of Mind and Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hariboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/gifts).



> Was supposed to be pure tropey Oh Noes Amnesiac Strangers Not Really Strangers leads to smut fic, and then I wanted some Norse mythology back up… and then it started to have a tiny blink and you'll miss it plot. It's short and hopefully too sweet to function. For Ari, who made me see the Jane/Thor light, even though I don't play in the Marvel universe.

This was not normal. 

Waking up with a killer headache in a golden sort-a-pod with amnesia to a dream world? Definitely not normal. 

She pinched herself. Shook every bone in her body. Took deep breaths. Counted to ten. 

In seven languages? 

Last resort: “Ok. Cameras out now.” 

No one came out. 

There was no sound, just her echo. Not anyone at all. 

Whoever she was, she didn’t like being alone.

Her heart raced, but she didn’t panic. A little freaked out, sure, but it was impossible to be calm when the first thing you see upon waking is your own organs dissolving in a swirl of bright yellow, gold and bronze dust. She got out of the slab and the 3D image reacted, dissolving completely.

Dust on the wind?

Plato?

 _No_ , no. 

_Bill and Ted_.

She was American then.

And this was not America. An unfathomable science had brought her here. Space travel? Wormholes? How? Instead of filling her with fear, it made her excited and curious. She waved her arm above the slab to bring back the hovering image, knowing in her gut that anything resembling the cosmos was automatically a good thing. 

Still. 

An amnesiac knew it was weird being an amnesiac. A 

She stepped out from the pod room into a corder that led to a golden hall that stretched out long, the ceiling reaching hundreds feet in beautiful patterns to meet at the connected top. A thousand windows stretched high and thin to the left and the right, letting in light and giving her glimpses of even bigger and more beautiful buildings of the city she was in. Arches physics would laugh at, walls made of the same iridescent textile that shimmered in sunlight.

She walked down the long aisle, taking her time. Blinking more than usual, searching for a tear in the dream. The moment she would wake. 

“Hello?” She asked. Nothing. Then, to herself, she said, “They might not even speak English. And if they do, what would you say to them? You turned up the pod too hot and accidentally fried my brain? Shut up, Jane.”

She skipped with delight.

Jane! Her name was Jane! Good.

Not so good was her outfit. 

A blowy black silk dress, fabric so soft she suddenly felt naked despite being underneath endless layers of it. She touched her stomach and knew a belt was missing. 

“Pardon.”

Jane spun around, hand to her mouth to stifle a yelp. She laughed when he laughed. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I haven’t seen anybody.” She was about to say hours, but she had just woken up. “I haven’t seen anybody,” she repeated, now really trying to pinch herself awake.

The man was ridiculously tall. Perfectly tall, she thought, as she lifted her chin to keep her eyes on him.

He approached with a light, careful step. Hands up to reassure her he was harmless. “I haven’t seen anyone as well.”

His accent made her knees weak, and upon closer examination, Jane’s throat went dry. He wore the exact kind of clothes she did. Fitted for his large, muscular body, long sleeves and long pants, both pairs as susceptible to the wind as his long blond hair.

Jane’s cheeks burned bright red, toes curling in her sandals. 

He wore sandals, too.

And a little squirm later, Jane discovered she had no underwear. She asked quickly, “Do you know where we are?”

“My home,” he said, staring out happily, but still confused. “I do not remember the name. Nor mine.” More gravely, he added. “Nor yours, my lady.” He said it as if it were his fault, as if he would do something about it. Before she could reassure him, he spoke again, “We know each other, don’t we?” 

Gently, he brought up her hand in his and played with her fingers, his palm nearly the whole size of her hand.

Jane nodded silently. 

She _did_ know him, and it was an unquestionable truth, like gravity.

He was someone to her. 

Someone to this place. 

Delirious with need of him, Jane put on her thinking cap and forced herself away. 

Jane needed answers. She wanted to be swept up by this gargantuan stranger, too, but the answers were more important. She licked her lips and watched his full ones before moving further away. “This? This is where you live? It’s beautiful. I think even if I saw this place a thousand times, I would still be amazed.”

She felt his eyes on her back. Soon she took up all the air, talking and talking, losing her breath as she brainstormed about their memories and what happened. He watched without interrupting, impressed by her energy.

“We should probably figure out what happened to us,” she finished.

“I agree,” he said. 

“What is this place, a church, do you think?”

He looked around and grinned merrily. “No. This is where we celebrate.” He offered his hand and she took it. “Let’s explore. This way.”

The halls were beautiful, spacious, and, as far as Jane knew, the most stunning place she had ever seen. The man beside her opened every door, courteous and mindful of her step, asking if anything spiked her memory before telling her freely he remembered nothing either. 

After a short time, he stopped at a particular door and pointed. “This is my bedroom.”

Jane smiled. “You remember this palace is yours, and you remember your room. What else is yours?”

He smiled down at her with a clear acknowledging glint to his gorgeous blue eyes. “Let’s have a look.” He opened the doors for her and let her go in first.

His bedroom was the same golden design as the palace, but the terrace doors were wide open and the wind came in to blow on silk white curtains. There was something lived in about the place, less austere and official. The large golden bed was tattered with wrinkled sheets and an army of pillows, everything that pale shade of gold or bronze or white. Jane instantly wanted to jump in.

He walked towards the brightest light coming from the widest terrace, and as she approached she saw it. Her belt! She picked it up and put it on the ledge. 

“What do you think we are to each other?” He asked, the golden strands of his hair drinking in the light.

Leaning the way he did, she could see his bare chest. He was _big_ and he was teasing her. 

“Close… friends.” She knew it was wrong the moment she said it. He came closer than a friend should, comfortable, confident, finger on her sleeve. All she could think about was that how long his tongue was, how hung he could possibly be. 

“That,” he said, tapping his finger on the symbol emblazoned on the belt, “Is special crest of mine. I must have given this to you.” He put his arms around her. “Jane.”

He kissed her softly, lips gently parting her mouth and tongue teasing her to bring her towards him. Big arms wrapped around her, easily, gently, lifting her to sit on the ledge. Her legs opened wide as he trailed kisses down her neck, his fists lifting the black silk beyond her knees. He came away to caress the length of her leg and kiss her ankle.

Jane’s head fell back in a swirl, every breath less overwhelmed than the one before. Whatever reservations she had were gone, the facts of the last hours aligned to give her peace. They were completely alone. She had carried his mark on her, and they wore… pajamas? The most easily removable pajamas in history.

“I don’t think it was an accident,” he said, bringing her back to him. He pressed her forehead to hers, taking her bum by his hands and bringing her against his cock. 

“Thank God, neither do I.”

The slightest tug of the string holding his pants and he was sprung free. Jane pulled the shirt over his large frame. His heat radiated off of him and Jane wanted more against her bare skin. 

He massaged her thighs, up and down from her hips to her knees, smiling and watching her belly rise and fall higher and lower. 

They were huge hands, unfit to hold down fragile equipment, but they were soft, infinitely soft. His long fingers brushed against the sensitive skin right at her cunt, each time getting closer to her lips. He kissed her as he opened her with his fingers, every part of her explored, every moan and whimper given over just to him, holding her the way he did. 

Jane came again and again, exhausted and exhilarated. “Wait,” she said, neck arched into midair, no longer mindful of the steep drop beyond the ledge. 

His hand slipped from her cunt to her navel, up between her breasts and neck. Jane lifted her chin and saw the blond top his head going down, not up. The chaste, wet kiss he left just where the little mound of hair began. She felt the little kiss all over and closed her eyes when more came. Tension in her neck melted, letting her fall again. His ate her, tongue lashing around her clit and lips and cunt, hands grasping her ass. He repeated her name with longing to know her, making her climax in his mouth.

Jane opened her eyes to an upside world that made complete sense. Or galaxy. She didn’t know where she was, but she felt safe. Then she saw it. A raven. Flying towards her, wings leaving behind trails against the white golden clouds, as if it was once a drawing and it had come to life. It spread its wings and let out a violent scream as it engulfed her in darkness and filled her with memories.

“Thor,” she said, pulling him up to kiss him. She touched him everywhere, remembering, laughing. His body with all the scars and curves and marks she had come to know. He smiled at her, still not knowing, but trusting her. Jane wrapped her arms and legs around him, and said his name again and again. “I know what we have to do.” 

“Good, perfect.” He spread her ass cheeks and entered her again, taking them towards the bed.


End file.
